All Or Nothing
by anythingforyouu
Summary: Death in the family brings Nichole to the small town of Charming, California. Can she handle the drama that awaits her, and learn to see beyond it or will she run in the other direction? Just how powerful can unexpected love be?
1. Chapter 1

I never really did get what he seen in this town. Sure, it seems like a quiet, safe suburban neighborhood where people dream about raising families but I could never shake the thought that these people were just extremely talented at maintaining a facade of peace, for what reason I'm unsure of. White picket fences and happily ever after is a load of bullshit and quite frankly, boring as hell.

"...damn," I mutter, taking a drag of my cigarette before flicking it away, "I really hate these places." I slammed my car door and walked up the steps of St. Thomas Hospital.

"Can I help you?" A petite red head asked.

"Yeah, I'm looking for room 228."

"I'm sorry, I can only let family members in the ICU. Unless you have proof of relation, I can not help you." She immediately turns away to face her computer, disregarding me.

I'm tired. I just drove non-stop for 12 hours. I don't have the time, the energy or the patience to deal with this. "Excuse me..," I said, trying to get her attention, "if you would've given me a moment to talk, I could've told you that I am famil-"

"Listen, I'm behind on a lot of work. Come back later. I can't help you." She cut me off.

Aggravated, I knocked everything on the service desk to the floor, startling the woman and a few nurses nearby. "I'll find the room my god damn self, thank you for all of your help however _next time_, " I said, flicking her off, "_sit on this and rotate, bitch_."

I started walking away, completely dedicated to doing as I said. I could hear the nurses questioning if they should call for security when I ran in to an old friend.

"Are you here to arrest me?" I said, throwing my hands in the air.

"No, not yet at least." Charlie laughed. "How have you been kid? I haven't seen you since you were 3 feet tall."

"Hanging in there, barely. I heard his daughters haven't even showed up."

"Not to my knowledge. I'm not surprised. He wouldn't be, either. Come on, I'll take you to him." He said, taking my hand in his and leading me.

Hospitals are terrifying. They're supposed to be perceived as the place where lives are saved but are more commonly where they are lost. It's the most sickening feeling to walk the halls and imagine all the families who have been here sitting in the waiting rooms, just hoping, praying, that they're loved ones made it through the surgery, through the chemo, through child-birth; I can almost hear the ghostly cries of mourning and dis-belief when the odds go bad. I try to shake the thought as I arrive at room 228. Gripping the door handle, I walk into the picture-perfect scene I've been seeing in my mind since I heard the news. My uncle, my only (semi) living relative, laying limp- breathing only because of tubes and a machine.

"...They say it has to happen today." Charlie says.

I stumble over to the chair next to his bed and reach for his hand. I wish I had been around more.

"I'm going to find the doctor.." I said, walking out. I glanced back at him, my mother's brother. I remember him trying to comfort me when she passed. He had tried to get me to move to Charming. I refused, not wanting to feel anything or be brought into a home like some charity case. I thought to my self, if I had not been so stubborn, maybe when his life came undone and his family deserted him, my company could've inspired him to hold on just a little bit longer.

Now he was just an empty shell of a man, waiting around for someone to pull his life line.

* * *

"As William Ross Wallace said, "Every man dies - Not every man really lives." When I look back at as much of his life that I knew, I think he lived his life to its full potential. Some people fear that they will not leave a mark when they leave this earth. This was not his concern. He wanted to leave a mark on the ones that he loved. He wanted them to know him as he was- bold, fearless, yet quiet and kind. He would have wanted us to remember everything good about him, and not the fact that he died, but the fact that he lived. He lived quite a life. Today, we bury a very good friend of mine. We will all miss him dearly. Rest in peace, Wayne Uncer. You protected the streets of Charming for years, and now it's time for this town to let you be at peace."

The petite brunette woman finished her speech with a tear in her eye. She was an older lady, maybe early 50's with the body of a 30 year old. I couldn't remember her face, although I haven't really spent any time in this town- to be fair. I looked at the crowd. There was a very interesting mix of people. Fellow officers, civilians, and oddly enough a pack of men in leather cut-offs had come to pay their respects too.

I placed a white rose on his casket and walked towards my car. I had done my share of mourning the night the doctors pulled the plug on him, and now it was time to move on. I'm used to death; it seems to happen a lot to those I care about. That's life, though.

As I headed through the dispersing crowd, I noticed something that caught my eye. One of the men in the cut-offs had wandered over to a separate set of tombstones and perched himself on top of it. I wondered who he was grieving.

"...you related to Uncer?" A familiar voice asked me, her eyes following mine and landing on the blonde haired man in the cemetery. I looked at the woman who had given the ending speech.

"He's my uncle."

"So you're the girl he always talked about. He was right, you do look just like your mother." She analyzed.

"Excuse me?" I said.

"Nicky, right? I knew your mom back before she ran off and skipped town. _Shame what happened to her_."

"Nichole," I corrected her, "and I'd really rather not discuss my mother with a stranger, but I'm sure she's smiling in her grave knowing that you think it's a 'Shame' that she's dead. Have a nice day, excuse me." I said pushing past her, heading to my car. Something about her screams the complete opposite of genuine.

* * *

I slammed the motel door that I had been staying in and began throwing all my clothes back in a dufflebag. I had to get out of this town. _'I paid my dues to Wayne, right? That's it, I'm free to go_' I thought to myself. I sighed, grabbing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt out. I stripped the black dress off I had on and walked into the bathroom. Changing and throwing my long dark hair into a pony tail, I looked at myself in the mirror. It had been a rough week, and my face said it all. My olive skin tone was a shade paler and my cheeks were flushed from crying. I knew sleep was impossible and leaving wouldn't make any problem resolve itself.

I had never been that close to my uncle, but he had always tried to be there for me. It scared me to know I had no one left to run to if I ever needed to.

I could go back home, but there was nothing there for me either; a couple ex-boyfriends I never loved, a few friends who didn't really care for me, and a dead-end job busting tables. Wayne loved this town. I wasn't sure why, but I wanted to find out. I had no where better to be, anyways.

I decided to take a walk and clear my head. I don't know my way around Charming and it was getting dark, but I didn't really care. From what I've heard, it's a fairly safe area. _'I should probably do some research on this place'_ I thought. I only knew what Wayne would tell me when he called on the holidays, which wasn't much. I lit up a cigarette.

I made my way to where the shops were, and I recognized motorcycles that were sitting outside of a diner, the same ones from the funeral. Two men walked out laughing and play-hitting each other until they noticed me.

"Hey!" One of them yelled. Was he talking to me? "You new in town? I seen you at Uncer's funeral today. Did you know him?" He asked. I recognized his blonde, messy hair. He was the man I had seen in the cemetary.

"He was my uncle."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." He said. "I'm Jax, and that's Opie." He motioned at the bearded man. He nodded toward me.

"Nichole." I stated, reaching my hand out to introduce myself.

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you darlin'," he said grabbing my hand and kissing it, "How long will you be in town?"

"Um," I stammered, a bit taken back, "I'm not sure yet. I'm considering staying, actually. Maybe, _I'm not sure_."

He laughed, "Well if there's anything I can do to make you love it here, don't be afraid to holler at me. You can hear these," pointing at the Harley Davidson's, "from a mile away. Just flag us down."

"Thanks, I will."

"Hope to see you around." He walked over to his bike and started it up. I watched from a few feet back.

He revved the engine as I involuntarily yelled "**WAIT**."

He looked back and smiled, "Yes?"

I have no idea what caused me to do that, it was like word vomit. I stood there nervous for a reason I couldn't grasp. "Know of any places where I can get a drink?" I sighed, happy to have been able to think of something to say.

"Hop on." He smirked.

* * *

What am I getting myself into?


	2. Chapter 2

Clutching the helmet he handed me, I slid it on and threw my leg over his bike. I wrapped my arms around the gorgeous, blonde-haired, stranger's waist. He nodded to his friend, and we took off.

I had no idea where we were going, or what I was thinking. I didn't know anything about these people. The truth is, I don't care. That scares me. I didn't care what happened to me. I just wanted to feel something_; a rush, a little bit of adrenaline, anything._ Being scared was good when you haven't felt anything but numb for years.

We pulled up to what seemed to be an automotive repair shop. There were people everywhere, stumbling around. I noticed several more motorcycles lined up. The man, Jax, pulled off to the side of the building and parked. He got off, as did I. I removed the helmet and perched it on the handle bars. Looking around, I noticed Teller-Morrow spelled out on the sign. I assumed it was a business, but it seems more like some frat house.

"Come on, let's go get a drink." Jax said, ripping me out of my thoughts. He reached out his hand, but pulled back when he noticed my hesitance. "I don't bite, darlin' I promise." He smirked. I nodded, and smiled back. I'm already here, I might as well have a good time.

He walked inside with me following. There were strippers everywhere. Or atleast what I assumed were strippers. They sure dressed like them.

I could feel eyes on me from every direction. Jax walked up to a bar in the middle of the room. I began to follow when I was stopped by a olive-skinned man.

"Hey, you're the girl from the funeral, right?" He smiled, genuinely.

"Well, there was plenty of women of there, but yes, you're right. I was one of them."

"Yeah but you stand out. We don't see a lot of new faces around here. So when we do, we remember them. I'm Juice, by the way."

"Nichole," I said, shaking his hand, "I'm Wayne's distant niece. I don't come around often, or at all..I should say. But it was right to see him off." I smiled meekly.

I could feel someone watching me. I glanced to the right of Juice and seen a bulky, white-haired man staring at me. He was also wearing a cut-off. As was the shorter, curly-haired man next to him.

"Can I get you a drink?" Juice asked.

"She's with me," Jax cut in, handing me a glass of what appeared to be whiskey, "sorry buddy." He smiled and half-hugged the man. "Come on." He grabbed my hand and led me to a table.

"It was nice meeting you, Juice." I said, "I'll see you around." I called back to him.

We sat down, and I sipped my drink. _Maybe I'll be classy tonight_, I thought. I have a reputation of being quite a drinker. He watched me pretend to not like it and smiled. "So, tell me about yourself," he said.

"Well, I'm not from around here." I stated.

He laughed, "obviously."

"What does that mean?" I questioned.

"You're different than these girls," he said, gesturing towards the scandalous women.

I smirked. _That's for sure, _I thought, as I watched a blonde dancing over the lap of some boozed-up older man. Looking back at him, I said, "I'd love to tell you about myself, but I'd rather you find out on your own."

"Does that mean you wanna see me again?" He asked. I could feel my cheeks flushing. I wish I could blame it on the whiskey, but I had barely had any of it. How does this person I knew nothing about have such an effect on me? I grabbed my drink and chugged it. He looked shocked. "Holding back on me, I take it?"

"I was trying to be more ladylike. I don't want you getting the wrong impression." I said, my lips curling up into a smile. "That would be... _dangerous_," my eyes lingering on the table before looking up at him. He was staring at me with big baby blues.

"Would it, now?" He questioned, cocking an eyebrow at me. "It just so happens that I _love _danger." He got up and grabbed a bottle from behind the bar, filling up our glasses. "How about a toast to you, _and me. _We're young, the night's young. And you're beautiful, darlin'..," I blushed, "cheers, Ms.,..?" He questioned.

"..Dellapenna." I said.

"Cheers, Ms. Nichole Dellapenna." He brought his drink to his mouth and leaned back in his chair, analyzing me. Something about my name in his mouth made me shiver.

"So, what is this place?" I asked, changing the subject.

"It's a repair shop." He said. "My father opened it up with his bestfriend, Clay, also my mother's most recent husband." He laughed. "And these guys.. we're part of a motorcycle club. That's why we wear cut-offs."

"So does that make you Jax Teller, or Jax Morrow?" I asked, remembering the sign out front.

"Teller."

I swigged my drink, feeling the burn on my throat. "Theres something about you, Jax Teller..You're an interesting person. I'm not sure how yet, but you are." I stated.

"Well, I hope you stick around long enough to find out." He said, not sounding completely sincere. I shrugged the uncertainty in his voice away and poured another glass.

A younger, more slender man walked to our table. He was also wearing a leather cut-off, but his said prospect where the other's had a grim reaper. _Prospect?_ I wondered, _what is this, some sort of gang?_

"Jax, Clay wants everyone at the table," the man said, disregarding me. Jax looked over at the older man with the white hair, a confused expression on his face.

"Give me a minute," He said. The man nodded and joined the others who were heading into a different room. He looked at me, "That was half-nut." I spit my drink back into my glass, stiffling a laugh.

I could feel the alcohol setting in. I tried to compose myself. "I have to go, I'll be back. Don't leave." I nodded. He got up and followed them. I frowned, I didn't want him to leave. What was I supposed to do?

Looking around, I decided to go outside for a smoke. The whiskey didn't agree. I could feel it urging me to sit back down the whole walk outside. I found the nearest picnic table and perched myself on top of it.

I lit my cigarette up, ignoring the obnoxious group of men a few feet away from me. They were wearing regular clothing, not something I would normally consider strange however I did. I guess this is the party spot for everyone in Charming.

"Hey baby, do I know you?" A drunk guy called. I glanced over at him. He was tall, with dark hair and obviously heavily intoxicated. I ignored him. However, that didn't stop him from walking over to me. "I said, do I know you?"

"No." I said, barely showing him any attention.

"Well, I want to." He said, sitting down next to me.

"I'm really not in the mood for talking, sorry." I got up and started to walk in the opposite direction. He followed and grabbed my arm. "Let go of me." I said, yanking myself away. He pulled harder, causing me to drop my cigarette. I watched it fall and as it hit the ground, I connected my fist to his nose. He threw his hands up in pain, freeing my arm.

"_Damn it,_ don't fuck with me. That was my _last one_!" I yelled, gesturing to the half-smoked cigarette. I felt arms grab me from behind and immediately tried forcing them off but instead I was pulled back.

"Get out of here! Don't ever let me catch you grabbing a woman like that again. Next time, you'll have more than a broken nose." A familiar voice said to the man clutching his bloody face. _Ouch,_ I thought, finally noticing what I had done. The guy who introduced himself earlier as Juice, escorted the man I had hit off the property.

"Is he okay?" I asked Jax, who had released me from his grip. "Are _you_ okay?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"I'm fine."

"You can really throw a punch," he said. "He broke my last smoke." I shrugged, unattached.

He laughed. "Come on, lets go somewhere quiet." He led me back into the _club house_, a term he had mention on the way there referring to the building we were in earlier. Down a hall way, he stopped at a room and motioned for me to go in. From the doorway, I could see a bed. Was this _his_ room? Was he bringing me here for _sex_? If I went inside, what _actually_ made me different from those women wandering around the bar room? Do I _care_? He ran his finger lightly down my spine, stopping at the base of my jeans. No, I _didn't_ care. I turned around to face him, grabbing his hand, I led him in.

His lips crashed onto mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he picked me up, slamming me against the wall. The sudden impact caused me to bite his lip. He growled in pain, setting me on the bed. I lay there, propping myself up on my elbows, watching him as he gently removed his leather jacket before throwing it across the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I just wanted to say that I really appreciate the reviews so far. This story has been stuck in my head for some time now so you can expect chapters being posted daily depending on the feedback I get. It's going to be fairly long considering all the detail I'm trying to add so if you think its dragging, I promise it's going to get a lot better soon! ALSO, who's excited for September?! New season of Son's of Anarchy! It can't come soon enough!**

* * *

I threw the blanket over my head, trying to ignore the sunlight peaking through the window. Failing, I turned on my back throwing my arms to my sides in defeat. I began panicking when I felt someone else laying next to me. I looked over to see matted blonde hair. Finally realizing where I was, I sat upright. Last night began coming back in flash backs. I reached up to comfort my throbbing headache only to receive a sharp pain in my hand. It was swollen. I had punched a stranger in the face last night. I sighed.

I walked into the bathroom. Turning on the faucet, I splashed water on my face trying to wake up. I ran my fingers through my tangled hair and set out to get my clothes which were conveniently thrown _all over the place. _

I tip-toed out of the room, careful not to wake my one night stand. I glanced back before shutting the door, admiring him. I touched my lips. I could still taste him on me.

The bar room was scattered with sleeping men in cut-offs and barely dressed women. It was silent so I must have been the first person awake. I made my way out, stepping over broken beer bottles and articles of clothing. I glanced towards a clock on my way out. _7:44 a.m.,_ it read. I sighed and set off on my long walk back.

* * *

I stumbled through the motel door way and fell into bed, exhausted. I reached for my cellphone to find three missed calls from Charlie, Wayne's best friend from the police department. _I wonder what he needs,_ I thought as I dialed his number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, its Nichole, you called?"

"Ah, yes. I spoke with Uncer's lawyer. If you were planning on hanging around for a while, his house was left to you." Charlie said.

"What?"

"Its yours or it goes on the market." He stated, matter-of-factly. "Key's are at the station. He would've wanted you to take it, Nic."

"...yeah, okay. Thank you." I hung up. A house? Did I really want a house? I was only 22 and that was quite the commitment. I had plenty of money from my mother's life insurance left to stay here, or anywhere for that matter.

I jumped in the shower, still considering. I let the water pour down my body, imagining it removing the guilt and regret from the night before. However, the strikingly loud sound of motorcycles passing through town pulled my thoughts back to where I didn't want them to be. I turned the water off and got out. I couldn't stop myself from wondering what he was doing; if he cared that I had left without a goodbye. _Of course not, _I corrected myself, _guys like him have women throwing themselves at him every night. You are no different._

I let my long curly hair air dry into its usual dark waves and threw on jeans, black boots and a regular t-shirt. Grabbing my sunglasses, I headed out to my car._ You would've come in handy this morning, _I thought, as I put the key in the ignition.

* * *

"Can I smoke in here?" I asked.

Charlie laughed. "Your uncle had stage 4 cancer," he said, pointing at the coffee table with a half-smoked blunt in it, "I'm sure it wouldn't hurt."

It was a nice place. Not too big, and not too small. The decor was up-to-date so I wouldn't have to change much, just add some things to put my own personal touch in it. I could definitely see myself living here.

"He owned it, so there's no mortgage. Just utilities. Your uncle always wanted you to come here. This is where you belong," he said, "I've got to get going kiddo, I'll check up on you in a few days." I nodded.

He let himself out as I began exploring the house. There were three bedrooms, two of which were vacant. _These must have been his daughter's,_ I thought. There wasn't much of anything around the house actually, it seems like he had already put most of everything in storage or just threw it away, knowing he didn't have a lot of time left.

I walked to my car and grabbed my suitcase and duffle-bag out, dragging it inside and leaving it in the living room. I began thinking of all the tedious things I had to do if I wanted to stay here. _Get the utilities switched to my name, go shopping, get a job, _I mused at the last thought. I hadn't even told my boss I was leaving town. He was a jerk, anyways. It's not like finding a new bartending job would be hard. _I have 4 years experience, _I told myself. My eyes were getting heavy. I was still tired from the night before. I let the weight of my eyelids win, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_5:06 p.m.,_ I read, setting my cellphone back down. I had slept all day somehow. I got up and decided to fix myself in the bathroom. I plugged in my curling iron and set it on the sink. My eyes were back to their normal bright green hue that I inherited from my mother and my skin was a nice shade of olive. I looked better than I had a few days ago; more like my usual self. I let my hair fall in loose curls are grabbed a white crop-top and high-waisted shorts. _I need a drink,_ I thought, lighting up a cigarette. I got in my car and drove to the first local bar I could find.

The Iron Horse, the sign had read. It looked relatively busy. I parked and headed for the door.

Inside, there were groups of people alternating from young women and men to white-haired towns people who seemed unaffected from the obnoxious music and loud conversations. I made my way over to the bar and sat down.

"What can I get you, sweetie." A small brunette with short hair and kind eyes asked.

"I'll have whatever's on draft." _Better to stay away from the hard liquor tonight_, I thought. She nodded and handed me a glass.

"You new here?" She asked. "Yeah, just moved in actually." I replied.

"Well it's nice to meet you. I'm Donna." She said. "This town's not so bad. I mean it could be better, but you'll find that everywhere. It's like one big family."

I looked around and noticed that everyone was acknowledging each other, age difference and appearance aside. You don't find that everywhere. "I noticed." I smiled.

"So, how do you like it so far?"

"I mean, it's okay. Quiet, for the most part. I don't know anyone really. But everyone seems fairly nice," I paused remembering my goals from earlier, "is this place hiring?" I asked.

"We're always hiring. Here," she handed me a pen and paper from behind the bar, "fill this out before you leave. I'll leave it in the owner's office. He should be in tomorrow morning."

"Thank you." She nodded and continued waiting on other customers. I brought my drink to my lips and watched as three men in cut-offs walked in. One was probably in his 60's, he had an oxygen tank with him. The other two we're probably in their late 30's, early 40's. They sat down at the other side of the bar.

"..._shit_." I heard Donna whisper, looking at the men. "_This should be interesting." _I watched her walk over to them, taking their orders.

I tried to fill out the application to keep my eyes off of them, but failed. The tall one with the curly jet black hair got up and started talking to a group of people. Moments later, the old man with the oxygen did the same, except to a different group. He leaned in, appearing to be talking quietly and pointing back. The third man was still sitting at the bar, smiling and watching his friends.

Before I knew it, punches were being thrown. The group that the older man was talking to seemed to be going after the black-haired man while the group of people _he_ was talking to, were going after the men who were going after him.

It was an all-out fight. Everyone in the bar began jumping in. Table's were being broken and chairs were being used as weapons. I seen the three guys leaving with smirks on their face. Donna followed behind them, screaming. _Is she crazy_, I thought.

I made my way out of the door, trying to stay out of harm's way. I could see Donna pointing her finger at the men who had seemingly started a riot.

"You can't do this shit!" She yelled. "I'm going to get in trouble. Everything's broken."

They seemed to be apologizing to her. I couldn't understand what was going on. The people who weren't joining in on the fight started leaving the bar. I could still hear the commotion of things being thrown from the door.

The three men took off on their bikes, causing Donna to throw her hands in the air, frustrated. Police sirens drowned out all the noise, and I could see the flashing red and blue lights coming down the road. Everyone began leaving to avoid any more trouble. I thought about getting in my car too, but couldn't bring myself to leave. The cops had cuffed six men and were shoving them in the back of their vehicles. One of them was questioning Donna. I felt bad for this girl. She was practically in tears. I walked over to where she was standing. I heard her complain about the mess that she was forced to clean up.

"Could you use a hand," I asked as the cop finished taking her statement, kneeling down and grabbing the leg to a chair off of the ground.

"You don't have to." She said.

"It's no problem, I don't mind."

She took a second to evaluate the damage before nodding. "Thank you."

* * *

Everyone was gone by the time we were finished. Donna notified the owner. He was surprisingly not as angry as a normal person should be. He barely seemed affected by the news. He said he'd call the insurance company tomorrow and handle it.

"Would you like a drink? I could use several at this point." She asked. I laughed.

"I don't blame you. Sure."

She made two Long Island Iced Teas and sat down at a table, sliding mine over to me. "I can't take this shit much longer. Everyday it's something new, ya know." She said drawing circles on her glass with her finger, staring at it. "I try so hard to be okay this life, but I'm not and it's wearing me thin." It didn't seem like she was talking about her job. What ever it was, I could see she was stressing about it. "Do you ever just want to take off, leave everything.. and never look back?" She asked.

"I've been running my whole life and thinking nothing of it." I stated. "Until one day, I did look back, and realized I had nothing left." She seemed to have taken in what I said. She didn't reply, instead bringing her drink to her lips and chugging it. My attention was diverted to the door when I heard the familiar sound of motorcycles approaching. Donna appeared unattached.

A few moments later, the door opened and in walked Opie _and Jax._ I couldn't mask the surprise on my face when I seen him. He mimicked my expression as well.

"Don't even bother," Donna said. _Were they together?_ "There's nothing you can say right now to fix this." She got up from her seat and headed to the bathroom. She threw an apologetic look my way, "Thank you for helping me today. That's on the house." I nodded, finishing my drink and walked right past Jax, who had been staring at me the entire time.

"Donna, don't do this. Not here," I heard Opie say, following after her. "Let's go home."

I was almost at my car when I was grabbed by the arm. I sighed, knowing who it was. I turned around to face him. "Is that how it's going to be? He questioned. "You sleep with me, sneak out in the morning, and then pretend it never happened next time you see me?"

"That's typically how one-night-stands work, isn't it?"

"Is that what it was to you?" He questioned.

"I don't know what it was. it was.. _just sex._"

"No, I don't believe that." He leaned in to me, his face inches from mine. I felt my heart beat quicken. "I don't believe you didn't feel anything for me," he ran his fingers across my jaw line. I blushed, dropping eye contact.

"I have to go."

"Come out with me." He pleaded.

"I don't even know you." I said, shaking my head.

"I _want_ to know you." Grabbing his helmet off of his handlebars and holding it out to me.

Torn, I stood there arguing with myself. One part of me was screaming to give in to this man while the other part was telling me to just go home. It's crazy how a stranger can make me feel so much, so fast. There was something about him that I was drawn to. He was mysterious, and sexy, and overall the type of guy your parents would warn you about but you were attracted to anyways. He was bad news; a heartbreak waiting to happen. But I was known for being a bit of a gambler so _I'll take my chances._

"Where are we going?"

"Crazy." He smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

_**"You can close your eyes to things you don't want to see, but you can't close your heart to the things you don't want to feel."- Unknown.**_

* * *

Ever since the death of my mother, I've been keen on never getting attached to anything; a town, a job, a house, a _person_. I'm a runner. That's what I'm good at. It's all I know. Sitting on the back of this bike, with the wind blowing through my hair, holding on to a man who could potentially be my kryptonite, all I could think about was the way my name sounded on his lips and how it felt to be beneath him. I wanted to tell him to stop, to turn around. Let me walk away now before I invested any more feelings. But I couldn't.

He pulled off of the road, heading up a dirt path in the woods. I watched the trees fly by, leaning my head against his back. Eventually, we ended up at a clearing about 5 miles into the woods. He slowed down to a stop and I climbed off of the bike. "What is this place?" I asked him.

There was long scriptures carved into all the tree trunks. I walked over to one, running my fingers along it.

"_**Anarchism**__..." I read, " __**stands for liberation of the human mind from the dominion of religion; the liberation of the human body from the dominion of property; liberation from shackles and restraint of government. It stands for social order based on the free grouping of individuals**_."

"My dad used to come up here when he was alive, to get away from everyone. I never understood why he spent so much time just sitting alone in the woods. He brought me up here a few weeks before he died. He told me not to talk, and just listen. " He told me, slipping his hands in his pockets. "It's peaceful, ya know. Somewhere you can go to forget about all the bullshit in your life. Been coming here ever since." He sat down on a fallen tree trunk; watching me admire his father's words.

_**"The concept was pure, simple, true, it inspired me, led a rebellious fire, but ultimately I learned the lesson that Goldman, Prudot and the others learned. That true freedom requires sacrifice and pain. Most human beings only think they want freedom. In truth they yearn for the bondage of social order, rigid laws, materialism, the only freedom man really wants, is the freedom to become comfortable."**_

"Your father was an intelligent man." I told him. He didn't reply.

"Why did you bring me here?" I asked, turning to face him. "Don't get me wrong, it's beautiful but it seems like a personal place."

"I want you to know me, _too_."

I sat down next to him. "How'd he die?" I asked.

"A semi-truck hit him on the highway. I was 15 when it happened. He ran out on our family and the club years before though. Maybe not physically, but mentally he was a traitor; a coward." He said, lighting up a cigarette.

"What exactly _is_ the club?" I asked.

"It's just a group of men who ride together and watch each other's backs." He shrugged. "It's a family. If a brother dies or can't work, we take care of his wife and children and make sure they have everything they need."

"A family where you establish leadership," I said, pointing to his Vice President patch.

"We make decisions as a club. Business related, some charity. It's good to have one voice who speaks for everyone. All this patch means is that I'm next in line to take over once my step-father can't ride anymore." I took in what he had said.

"What's your story?"

I sighed. "Well, my dad was never a part of my life. He left my mother when she got pregnant. She died when I was 16, cervical cancer. Since then, I've pretty much been on my own." He nodded, passing me his cigarette. I took a drag of it. "It's better that way, being alone. _Easier_."

"Don't you get lonely?" He asked. "I manage." I shrugged.

"So how long will you be around?"

"I'm not sure. Uncer left me his house. I don't know if I'm going to sell it or keep it yet. It could go either way."

"I hope you find what you're looking for darlin'," he said, looking at me. "I just hope you find it in Charming." He grabbed my hand in his. I admired how it looked, intertwined together. He pushed my chin up forcing me to lock eye contact with him before crashing his lips into mine. I ran my fingers through his hair, tugging him closer. He pulled back and rested his forehead against mine.

"You make me feels things I've never felt before."

I inhaled, trying to catch my breath and process what he had just said. "Let's get out of here." I nodded. He stood up and led me to the bike.

* * *

We pulled up to a small bar on the far side of town. "I come here when I don't feel like being around a crowd." He told me. "It's quieter."

There was, at most, 25 people inside. It was a relatively calm environment. I looked over and noticed a familiar face, it was the man from The Iron Horse who had watched his friends instigate the fight earlier. I walked up to the bar, ordering two drafts. Jax had walked over to the man in the matching cut-off.

"Here you go." The bartender said, sliding the drinks over. I sat them down at a nearby table. Jax was walking towards me with his friend following.

"Nichole, this is Bobby. He's part of the club."

"Hi sweetheart, it's nice to meet you." Bobby said, reaching for a handshake.

"Same to you," I smiled at him.

"Jax tells me you're pretty incredible." Bobby nudged the blonde-haired man.

I laughed. "He said that? That's a high standard to live up to."

"I'm sure you won't disappoint."

"I hope not." I replied.

"Tim," Bobby called to the bartender, "how about a few rounds for the table?"

"The usual?" Tim questioned. Bobby nodded.

Tim walked over with a tray of shots. "Should I call a cab now or wait til later?" The bartender joked.

"You know I don't leave my Harley _anywhere_." Bobby said. Tim shook his head and went back behind the bar.

I could smell the liquor without even picking it up. "Tequila." I said.

"You bet your sweet ass." He looked at Jax, "what are you waiting for?"

"I'm packing double tonight, that wouldn't be such a good idea." Jax said. Bobby nodded, understanding. "Have at it darlin'," he looked at me and motioned toward the tray.

_Oh, what the hell. Why not?_ I thought, picking one up and bringing it to my lips.

"Yeah, she's definitely a keeper." Bobby smirked. I lit up a cigarette, taking a drag to balance out the burn in my throat. A slow song had come on the jukebox. "Dance with me," Jax said.

"Oh, no. I don't dance." I said, shaking my head. "Well I do, and I'm pretty good at it." He replied. Grabbing my hands, he pulled me against him. I gave in and wrapped my arms around his neck while he swayed to the music.

I love how it felt to be close to him; his warmth, his smell, _everything._ I'm sure we looked like idiots. We were the only two people in the bar dancing, but I didn't care. He buried his face in my hair. I caught a glance of Bobby, who was smiling and shaking his head.

The doors of the bar swung open and I felt myself being thrown to the ground.

Jax was hovering over me. "Nichole," he said. My ears stung. I reached up to cover them. _What was that?_ _Gunshots?_

"Nichole, I need you to listen to me." I looked at him, confused. "Crawl behind the bar. GO!" He reached into his jeans, pulling out a gun he had tucked in.

_What was going on?_ I managed to stand up but immediately dropped to the floor when a bullet hit a beer bottle and shattered it a foot away from me.

Shaking, I dragged myself to safety. The bartender was laying limp on the ground next to me, his brains splattered on the wall. My ears were ringing but I could still make out screams in the room. It was a _blood-bath_. Another bullet shattered a cup that had been placed on the counter directly above my head. I gasped as shards of glass hit me.

"Mayans, Jax," I could hear Bobby yell, "call for back-up, I'm running dry."

Jax jumped behind the bar where I was hiding and knelt down. He pulled his cellphone out and started talking to someone. I couldn't hear what he was saying. I watched him hang the phone up and mouth something to me. _Was he talking? _I looked at him, confused. I wiped my forehead feeling moisture trickle down, ignorant to the sting of the wound until seeing the blood on my hand.

He stood up and fired more shots, then knelt back down and began shaking me. "Nichole." I didn't reply. I wanted to stand up, to see what was happening. I tried to get on my feet but was pushed back down. "Nichole," he said firmly. "Something's happening right now that you're unable to comprehend."

"Okay." I swallowed.

"Are you afraid?" He asked. "I need you to be afraid darlin', fear keeps you alive."

Bobby joined us behind the bar. "I'm almost out," he said, "how much do you have left?"

"A clip and a half." Jax replied. "How many guys are there?"

"Too many." Bobby stood up, holding them off.

Jax looked at me. "I'm so sorry." He cupped my face in his hands. "There's an emergency exit across the room from us, can you see it?" I nodded. "I want you to run for it."

* * *

**A/N: Please review if you liked the chapter! I'll update when I get some feedback. Constructive criticism is welcomed. I appreciate all the support I can get. **


	5. Chapter 5

"_**You don't ask people with knives in their stomachs what would make them happy; happiness is no longer the point. It's all about survival; it's all about whether you pull the knife out and bleed to death or keep it in..." - Nick Hornby**_

* * *

I had thought about how I would die before. I imagined I would go peaceful, in my sleep. Isn't that what everyone thinks? No one expects to be murdered in cold blood or deteriorate in a hospital bed from a disease. There's no way to prepare for something like that. Society sells an image of old age; sitting in a rocking chair, old and gray, watching your grandchildren run around the back yard. That isn't realistic for everyone. People tell each other to _look both ways when crossing the road. Don't drink alcohol, your liver will shut down. Don't smoke cigarettes, you'll get lung cancer. If you do drugs, you're signing your own death certificate, _right?_ There's preventive steps you can follow to live a long and healthy life_. Bullshit. There's nothing you can do. You're going to die and only fate can decide how. That's a scary thought. People don't want to hear that you can be the healthiest, most cautious person and still get hit by a speeding car on your Sunday walk to church. The ambulance arrived late and you flatline on the way to the hospital.

I didn't want to die, but I wasn't afraid to. Death is a part of life. It's inevitable.

"What about you?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Just go, I'll be fine. I'm going to cover you. Run and don't look back. Do you understand?" I shook my head, refusing. "GO!" He yelled at me.

He stood up and fired at them. I crawled over the bartender, making my way to the end of the counter, where I would sprint for the door. Broken glass covered the floor and I could feel it piercing through my jeans and digging into the palms of my hands.

That's the funny thing about adrenaline. It has a way of taking the pain away. When your heart is beating out of your chest you don't really have time to acknowledge something as trivial as a little bit of blood and sweat. You endure it.

I came to the end of the bar, where I stood up, still ducking my head behind the safety of the counter. I peaked up to see the men who were shooting at us. They appeared to be Mexican, wearing kuttes that spelled out Mayan. They had flipped tables over to provide protection and were positioned behind them. I counted three men, but from the sound of the gunshots there was definitely more than that. There was bodies sprawled all over the place. I heard the cry of pain as I turned to see Bobby clutching his arm. He fell backwards from the impact. Jax looked at him worried, before screaming, "NOW," urging me to run.

I sprinted for the door but stopped in shock when the emergency exit was kicked in. Four men, two of which I recognized as Opie and Juice, rushed in with assault rifles. The entrance was also infiltrated and soon enough the entire bar was filled with Son's of Anarchy patches. I backed myself into a corner and watched.

They had completely surrounded the shooters. I could now see six Mayan's. They had stopped shooting, accepting defeat. The white-haired man gunned five of them down, perfect head shots with his pistol. The last man dropped his weapon and threw his hands in the air. Jax jogged over to him and began punching him.

"Enough," the white-haired man told him. He must be in charge. _Clay?_ I thought, remembering what Jax had said to me hours earlier. I tried putting the pieces together. Nothing made sense. Jax had said the club was just men who rode bikes and watched each other's backs. I couldn't separate fact from fiction. My mind had yet to grasp the reality of the situation. I was waiting for a camera crew to pop out of no where, tell me they were filming and this was all some huge prank. I knew that wasn't going to happen. My hands were still shaking visibly.

"Why did you do this," Jax yelled at the man. "Who sent you!" He didn't reply. Jax kicked him in his stomach, pulling out his gun and blowing his brains all over the floor. "Check his ink, this is a flash-patch. This ain't Mayan."

I could feel my stomach tighten as my mouth began to water. I walked toward the door, barely making it outside before vomiting all over the ground. I leaned my back against the side of the building. My legs were becoming too weak to hold my weight. I sunk down to the ground, bringing my bloody knees up to my chin and wrapping my arms around them. I must be in shock because any normal person would have high-tailed it out of there as soon as the opportunity arose. I was exhausted. I couldn't move right now if someone was literally chasing me. The men began filing out of the bar. If I was lucky, they wouldn't even notice me. I never did have a whole lot of luck though.

"Me and Opie will take care of it." I heard Jax say to who I assumed was Clay. I could feel eyes on me but I didn't bother to look at any of them. These men were dangerous. I had no idea who they were or what fucked up shit they were involved with. I had a sick feeling that this was just a normal night for them. No one sounded the least bit surprised or worried. "Give me a minute," he said to the others. I heard his footsteps approaching me. I still had my face buried into my knees.

"I know you're scared and confused. You probably want nothing to do with me. Listen, I never meant for you to go through that shit. I never wanted to put you in harm's way." He sighed. "I don't expect you to understand. Please just say something, _anything_."

"I don't know who you are, who you _really are_." I said, looking up to him.

"I'm the same guy you were with hours earlier."

"No, you're not."

He leaned down to where I was sitting and placed his hand on my leg. "Nichole-"

"Don't. Please, don't touch me." I jerked his hand off of me. "I can't. Not now." I said, shaking my head.

Jax stood up, calling for Juice. The olive-skinned man who had introduced himself to me in the club house the other day strutted over. "Take her back to the club. Charming's not safe until we find the guys who are behind this and deal with it. It's on lockdown until then." Juice nodded and Jax walked away.

He stood there for a few minutes, watching me. "You coming?" He asked. _No_, I thought. "You know, most people would've lost it had they been in your shoes today. I think you're holding up well."

"You think I'm holding up well?" I asked him incredulously. "Why are you not panicking? Why isn't any one calling the police? There was just a shoot-out. There are people dead inside." He shifted his weight onto his other foot, shoving his hands in his pockets; noticeably uncomfortable. "People with families and friends and _children_. This is a tragedy. Why am I the only one here who comprehends that?"

"We understand what's happened. We make it a priority to keep the streets of Charming safe. What happened tonight is what we fight to prevent. It was completely out of our hands. This_ is _a big deal to us, but you have to understand that getting upset doesn't solve anything. Not right now. You can't be sad and overcome with emotion and be proactive at the same time."

"Being proactive would be alerting the authorities." I cut in.

"No, the police are as useful as any random Joe on the street. Society just uses them as a security blanket to make the people feel safe. In reality, we have a better chance taking down the guys who did this than they would."

"What makes you any better than them?" I questioned him.

"We're not cold-blooded murderers. We fight only to keep our people safe; only when we have no other choice. It's basic survival. Kill or be killed. It's as simple as that. Life isn't fairy tales and happy endings or shit like that. You see what you want to see until you're forced to see it for what it really is."

"What are you even saying?"

"I'm saying that looking at life through rose-colored glasses is nice and all, but it isn't realistic. We're not monsters. We're just people who dug a little deeper and decided not to be contained by social order. We choose not to be swayed by what the government feeds us, of what's deemed right or wrong and we're looked down on for it." He sat down next to me. "But mostly, we're brothers; one big family. We ride together and we die together... We fight to keep what's rightfully our's."

"And what's that?"

"Freedom." He said.

I took in what he had said. I didn't know if had made sense to me. Nothing about today had made sense. All I could picture in my head was the look on Jax's face as he stuck the gun to that man's head and pulled the trigger. _Kill or be killed_, Juice's words danced through my mind.

"I'm tired." I told him, feeling the weight of my eyelids becoming too heavy to hold up.

"Let's go," he said.

"I can't."

I felt two strong arms wrap around me and lift me up as I drifted to sleep.

* * *

I woke up in a panic. My heart was racing and sweat trickled down my face. The previous event's of the night managed to haunt me even in my dreams. I noticed the familiar walls of Jax's bedroom in the club house. He had fallen asleep on the couch across from me. My purse was sitting on the night stand. Someone must have grabbed it from the bar. I reached inside for my cellphone. _9:46 a.m_., it read.

I walked into his bathroom and looked at my reflection in the mirror. The dried blood on my skin was flaking off. I turned the faucet on and splashed water on my face, washing it off. The cut on my forehead didn't seem so bad. My palms were black and blue and slightly swelled and it hurt to bend my knees when I walked. The wounds were seemingly superficial and would heal in a few days. I remembered Bobby, who had been shot, and wondered how he was holding up. I shook the thought away, considering that I should be afraid of these people instead of worrying about them. Leaving the bathroom, I tip-toed over to grab my bag, careful not to wake Jax up and headed for his door.

I walked down the hallway, taking in all of the voices I heard. There were people everywhere. Pleasant chit-chat filled the building as if some huge family reunion was being held. They must all be in the bar room. I crossed my arms over my chest.

"There's coffee in here." A voice had said behind me. I turned to face the older woman from Unser's funeral. She was standing in a doorway, her fist resting on her hip. She gave me a cold stare. "I'm Gemma."

"No, thank you. I'm going to head out." I told the woman.

"Really," she said, eyeing me up and down, "I insist." She turned into what I assumed was the kitchen. "Club's locked down anyways. You won't get very far."

"What do you mean it's locked down?" I questioned her, following her into the room.

"Have a seat," she ordered. "How do you like your coffee?"

"I don't want any coffee."

"Your uncle drank it black." She ignored me and filled up a glass, sliding it over.

"What do you mean the club is locked down?" I repeated myself.

"It means that all family member's of the club are supposed to stay here until whatever's going on blows over."

"I'm not family," I told her. "So, what? You're holding me hostage?"

"Who ever ordered the hit last night could already know who you are. It's safe here."

My attention was captured by a little television sitting on the counter. It was the news. I had heard a reporter mention the town of Charming and became fixated. A young man standing in front of ruins had identified the area as the location of the tiny bar I was drinking at yesterday. All that was left was the scattered remains of it. He stated there had been a gas leak causing the entire place to catch fire. A fire marshal walked into the screen and the man began interviewing him.

"_At about 5:30 this morning_," he told the reporter, "_we had received a call from a couple passing by. They told us there was a fire which was spreading to the woods. Had we never gotten the call this could have turned into a mass forest fire because it's off-the-grid. There's no houses or other businesses within a mile of it_."

"_Were there any casualties_?" The reporter asked him.

"_Several. It's hard to tell how many exactly at the moment because of the severity of the damage the fire caused but we should know within the next couple of days_."

It made sense to me now, remembering Jax telling Clay that he and Opie would handle the situation. They blew the place up; staged an accident. _Smart_, I thought, immediately chastising myself for thinking anything positive about what had happened.

"And I'm a liability, right?" I turned to look at her. "Why don't just say what you want to say? I know too much. I've seen too much."

"My son seems to think otherwise." She stated.

"Your son?"

"Jackson. That's my boy." She told me, lighting up a cigarette.

"There's nothing going on with me and Jax. I hardly know him, _obviously_." I said, referring to his lifestyle I had recently learned about.

"You don't have to know everything about someone to want to be with them." She told me. "You just know how they make you feel and that you never want them to make anyone else feel the same way. The rest comes with time." She took a drag of her smoke. "You fall in love with the man. And you learn to love the club along the way."

* * *

**A/N: Please review if you liked the chapter. I'll update again in a day or so when I get some feedback. I'm going to focus on character development throughout the story, so if you feel like don't know enough about them yet, it will definitely come soon. This story is going to revolve around some of the tv series related drama as well as made up situations. **


	6. Chapter 6

"_**No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side. Or you don't." - Stephen King**_

* * *

When I was in the eighth grade, a girl in my class had told a friend she was questioning her sexuality. That friend had told a friend who told her friend, who told a few more people. By the end of the day, everyone had heard her secret. I had watched the girl walk the halls with her head down, shamed and ostracized.

I had told my mother when I arrived home from school. I still remember the melodic sound of her voice as she recited, "_We can never judge the lives of others, because each person knows only their own pain and renunciation. It's one thing to feel that you are on the right path, but it's another to think that yours is the only path." _

"What does that mean?" I had asked her.

She wrapped her arms around me and said, "It's a quote by Paul Coelho, a brazilian novelist. It means that you should never deem someone wrong for their choices. Our idea of right and wrong will hardly ever be exactly the same as another person's. And that's fine. Our perception is biased because of the trials and tribulations we independently face everyday. When we see other people, we expect them to be like us because that's what we consider normal. But people aren't machines and can't be programmed to live a certain way. Everyone has different feelings and opinions and aspirations. And that's fine, too."

My mother was an intelligent woman. She was understanding and level-headed and was able to see the world for all that it was. I suppose I lack in those regions. I'm stubborn and cold and set in my ways. If I couldn't comprehend something, I ran from it. That's how I had gotten through the tough times in my life. When she died, Unser had petitioned the courts for custody, having been left to my grandmother who was kind enough to accept me into her home for a few short months yet too old to really want someone else around to look after.

She had signed the papers stating she gave her rights over to him. She died a year later. Sometimes I wondered what my life would be like now if I had complied to move to Charming. Perhaps I would already be involved with Jax and the club, or stayed in highschool and been accepted in to a good college far away from here; studying for hours and deciding which bathing suits I would pack for my last spring break before graduation.

The day social services came to take me, I ran. I wasn't a charity case and I didn't need someone to take care of me because they felt _bad_. I lost them after running into the woods, hitch-hiking town to town.

I stayed with a woman named Rachael who was in her early 20s for a few years. She had picked me up on the side of the road. I got a job waitressing at a local diner by her apartment. Rachael was from Arizona. She moved to California in hopes of finally getting away from her abusive ex-boyfriend. She was an empty shell of a once beautiful girl who understood my need to get away.

When I turned eighteen, I collected my mother's life insurance they had been holding from me and bought a car, allowing me to drive myself to classes where I was able to finish school. I put a down payment on my first place a couple months after that. Rachael and I lost touch after I moved. I heard she got married and had a child since then. We used to swear on everything that love didn't exist.

I still remember the heartbreak in the eyes of the first boy who had confessed his feelings for me. I met him while I was serving drinks at a bar. He was handsome, with subtle features and big green eyes. We were together for two years before I left him. I didn't even leave a note. I just took off in the middle of the night. He was everything a girl could want in a man. He had a good job, a sense of humor and a smile that could light up a room. He wanted to marry me. _I never loved him. _

Running was easy. But when do you stop and say _enough's enough_? When do you decide to face your problems head on instead of taking off at the first sign of vulnerability? When do you _stop_ being a coward? I don't even know who I am. Or maybe I do. Maybe I just don't want to be that girl anymore.

* * *

I had my arms folded on the table top with my head rested over them. Gemma had already left the kitchen. I assumed she was mingling with the family member's of the club. I was stuck in my own thoughts as usual.

My car was still sitting in the parking lot of The Iron Horse, the bar that the riot ripped apart. It couldn't be any more than a few blocks away from the Teller-Morrow lot. If I walked, I could be there in less than 15 minutes. Remembering what Gemma had said about the lockdown, I got up from where I was sitting and walked towards the bar room where the main entrance was. I peaked my head around the corner. Everyone was talking to one another and laughing. I noticed two prospects guarding the door.

"They don't bite, lass." A man with a thick Scottish accent said from behind me. I felt his hand rest on my shoulder. I shrugged it off and turned around to face him. "I'm Chibs," he told me, extending his hand.

"Uh. Nichole," I said, giving my own hand a once over before deciding not to distend it. It was sore and appeared to be more swollen than before.

He noticed my hesitation. "How about I fix that up for you, ay?"

He led me into a small room where he told me to sit down. He pulled out peroxide and poured it on a towel.

"So are you in charge of cleaning people up after shit goes bad?" I asked him.

"I served as a medic with the British army for five months back in the day. I don't know much but I do what I can." He brought towel up to my forehead and I winced as it began to sting. He cut a piece of gauze and placed it over the cut, securing it in place with tape.

"How's Bobby. He was shot." I remembered.

"Just grazed 'em, got a slight flesh wound. He'll be back to his booze drinkin', Elvis singin' self in no time."

"Elvis singing?" I asked.

"Ol' boy does impersonations. He travels around when he ain't stuck here dealin' with shit that goes arseways." He smirked.

I thought about Bobby up on a stage somewhere entertaining a crowd. It seemed funny to me, picturing a big bad biker dressed up in a jumpsuit and a wig. I let a soft laugh escape from my lips. It was refreshing to know that he had a hobby that could be considered normal.

Chibs finished wrapping my hands up. I thanked him.

"Can I ask you a question?" I said as he reached for the door handle.

"Aye."

"Is it hard to have a family when you're in a motorcycle club?"

"It's just as hard as it would be to 'ave a family when you ain't part of one. You both got to want it and work for it."

"Do you have kids?" I reprimanded my self for being so nebby when I noticed the pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry, that's none of my business."

"Kerrianne," he said. "Her and her mother live in Belfast. My biggest regret is letting my girls get away from me. I plan to get 'em back one day. I love 'em both very much."

The door creaked open, interrupting us. In walked the gorgeous blonde-haired man. He was wearing a sullen expression on his face. Chibs read his demeanor and turned out of the room, patting him on his back as he left.

"Can I talk to you?" He asked me. I nodded.

"Listen, I'm sorry about last night." I said, "I was scared, and confused."

"Are you still scared?" He questioned.

"I think..." I paused, trying to find the words the explain. "I think I should be scared. But I'm not, and maybe that scares me more."

"I never wanted you to have to witness that." He said, buring his face in his hands. "I set up a meeting today with the president of the Mayans; see if he recognizes the gang ink on the men who shot the bar up. Whoever did it was trying to frame them. We don't know how many guys there are behind it.. Could be twenty, thirty, or just the six from last night. That's why the club's locked down. Until we know for sure that it's not going to happen again, this is the only place that's safe."

"What would set someone off to do that, though?"

"That's the thing, we don't know. It could've been a personal hit on me or bobby. Or a hit on the club as a whole. Or some assholes trying to start a war between two MCs." He told me. "It would explain the flash patches."

"What are flash patches?"

"They're fake cut's made to look exactly like originals."

"Oh." I said.

"I promise I'm not going to let anything else happen to you. We're going to sort this out and when it's over, the club won't bother you again. You can go about your life and pretend you never met any of us."

"Is that what you want?" I asked him.

"It's not about what I want, it's about what's best."

"It's not your place to decide what's right for me."

He stood up and leaned towards me, kissing me on the forehead. I closed my eyes and felt him pull away.

"I can't just forget about you, Jax." I whispered. My voice was drowned out by the squeak of the door as he walked out.

* * *

"Gemma, stop! Where are you going?" The raven-hairred man yelled behind us.

"To pick up some things."

"Everyone stays here, club orders." He told her.

"I think you know me better than that." She said, sliding her sunglasses over her eyes and getting into her Cadillac Roadster. He grabbed the door as she was pulling it shut.

"You know I can't let you guys leave. Why you gotta give me such a hard time?"

"You have two choices, Trager, get in or get off." She yanked the handle, nearly crushing his finger tips.

"This is why I beat hookers." He said, getting into the back of her car.

She drove me to The Iron Horse so I could grab my car, and followed me back to Unser's. I walked up to the door and unlocked it. "You coming?" I called to her. She was stopped in her tracks, fixated on the house. "Yeah, just give me a minute."

I nodded, heading inside and making my way to the bathroom. I turned on the faucet in the bathtub and stripped out of my clothes. I let the water run over my body removing the remnants of the night before.

I quickly threw on a fresh pair of jeans and navy blue tank top. I lit up a cigarette, grabbed my duffle bag from the corner and walked out to the living room.

"He was something else." Gemma said, hearing my approaching footsteps. She was standing at the fire place; admiring a picture of Unser in his Marine corps uniform. He had

"He sure was." I replied.

"Wayne was a very close friend of mine and the club's." She told me, showing vulnerability. "I called him the other night. I forgot he died." She placed the photo back down, "That's life though, shit happens."

She glanced back at me. "Your bandages are wet." She stated, dropping the subject.

"Yeah," I said, "I didn't really think that through when I got a shower."

She strutted to the closet, her heels making a rhythmic tapping against the hardwood floor. "Here," she said. She pulled out a tiny first aid kit from the back. "Give me your hands."

I stuck my cigarette into my mouth, balancing it between my lips and held them out in compliance. She quickly removed the soaked gauze and replaced it. "You have to keep the cuts dry if you want them to heal faster."

"Okay." I said.

Tig coughed to get our attention. He stood leaning in the doorway. "Time to go ladies." He said. "I'm sitting out here going crazy, waiting for Clay to show up and shoot me for this."

"You could die for worse causes." Gemma told him.

"I got nothin' but love for you Gem, but if you don't get into the car right now I will force you into it."

"Calm down, shithead. We're coming."

* * *

We drove into the Teller-Morrow lot, greeted by a very unhappy Clay who had arrived back from the meeting sooner than expected. Gemma swore under her breath. "You called him?" She yelled at Tig, who practically bolted out of the car and past his President.

"Are you crazy Gemma? Do you understand what a lock down means?" Clay asked. She ignored him, instead glaring in Tig's direction. He had made it inside already. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"It's so hard to find good help around here." She joked.

"Don't you think I have enough shit to deal with? I don't need you running around getting yourself in trouble. We'll talk about this after church." He demanded before storming inside.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I wouldn't have said yes when you offered to take me if I knew how mad he would be."

She smirked. "Don't worry baby, it's nothing a blow job and a beer can't fix. Men just like to feel in control. Besides, you looked like hell."

I walked into the club house. Noticing Donna sitting at the bar by herself, I made my way over to her. She was apparently annoyed. I could see it in her posture. "Are you okay?" I asked her.

She looked me over before sighing, "I should be asking you that. I heard what happened."

"I'm fine, just a few scratches."

She scrunched her face up, confused. "How are you okay with this? _I hate this shit_.. being forced to stay here all day. I married Opie, not the club." I hadn't noticed the ring on her finger until then. I shrugged. "It's always something." She stated.

"It bothered me at first. But I mean, I could be dead right now so I suppose being stuck here isn't the worst thing ever."

"You're stronger than me. If I was you, I would've bought a one way ticket out of here as soon as I could. It's not that easy when you have ties to the club."

I silently mused what she said. That's _exactly_ what I would have done had this happened at any other point in my life; had it not been Jax that I met, and instead some other guy. I couldn't deny that I had some sort of feelings for him. I couldn't understand them, but they were there. I've never put effort into anything I did. I was trying to understand his life because I _wanted_ to be a part of it. I never wanted to be a part of _anything. _

"Do you want a beer?" I asked her, getting up from the stool and heading to the tap. She shook her head no. I poured two glasses anyways.

"Just in case," I said, sliding it to her.

"Sometimes I wish we could just move away from this town and start over. I want a family, ya know? How am I supposed to start one in these conditions." She ranted, grabbing the draft and chugging half of it. "Why can't you choose who you fall in love with? Life would be so much easier."

"Nothing in life worth having, comes easily." I said, not fully aware of where that came from. It wasn't something I would typically say. I lit up a smoke and downed some of my glass. I decided that I needed something a little stronger. I finished what was left in my cup and filled it to the top with aged bourbon.

Donna had her head on the counter, buried in her arms. We sat in silence for awhile before two leather doors swung open and the Son's filed out. I scanned the men, my eyes falling on the blonde. He appeared frustrated. My eyes shifted to Opie as he walked into my peripheral view. He sat down next to Donna and ran his fingers through her hair. "You okay?" He asked her.

"I'm fine," she lied.

I heard the stool next to me pull out, and a glass clink off of the counter. I turned to see Bobby. He had an identical bandage as the ones on my hands, on his upper arm.

"How are you holding up?" He asked me. It was the same question I'd been asked several times today.

"That's a simple question but it doesn't have a simple answer." I said. "I'm still breathing, if that suffices."

He nodded. "Crazy night."

"Yeah.." I found myself glancing behind, fixating on Jax. He was at the other end of the room, sitting on a couch; a scantily dressed blonde woman perched on the arm of it, demanding his attention. I frowned.

"Don't worry about her," Bobby said, following my gaze.

"I wasn't." I lied.

"She's just pussy."

"Did you find out who was behind the shooting?" I asked, changing the subject.

"We got a couple leads that we're going to check out. Nothing solid, but we're working on it."I didn't press him for any more information. I figured if I was supposed to know, someone would tell me. I brought my drink to my lips and Bobby followed in suit.

I excused myself and wandered down the hallway looking for the bathroom. It was the first door on the left. It was colored a dark shade of blue with a huge american flag painted in the center. I evaluated myself in the mirror. My reflection was definitely an improvement from what I looked like this morning. My wet hair had dried into long waves. I sighed, trying to get a grip. I quickly washed my hands and opened the door.

I wasn't prepared for what I seen when I stepped out. A small giggle had caught my attention and I stopped dead in my tracks. Up the hall from me, was the blonde woman from the bar room leading Jax in to his dorm. She flashed him a devilish smile and I could feel my blood boil under the surface of my skin. I heard the clicking of the door as they disappeared from my sight. I started walking toward them, quickening my pace. I wasn't sure what I was doing, but I didn't have the strength to stop myself.

I slammed the door open, startling the both of them. He was sitting on the edge of his bed. She was straddling him and he had his arms wrapped around her bare torso. I ripped her off of him by the hair, causing her to fall on to the ground. "Get out!" I yelled.

"Who are you?" The woman questioned.

"_Get out!_"

She reached over grabbing her shirt that laid by the night stand and half-jogged from the room. I slammed the door shut behind her. "Is this what you do?" I asked him incredulously, "sleep with loose women every night?" He looked at me, wearing no expression on his face.

"Jesus christ," I exclaimed, "is that what I was to you? Pussy?"

"No, that wasn't it."

"Then how do you explain this? You were going to fuck some bitch knowing I was here, in the other room."

"Don't you understand?" He yelled, standing up. "I can't be around you. I can't risk bringing you into any more shit."

"Oh, save it," I said, "that's just a bullshit excuse and we both know it."

"What if something had happened to you?" He asked. "What if the other's didn't show up when they did. It could've been a lot worse, Nichole. My life is too dangerous to involve someone else in it. Get out while you can."

"So what's your plan, Jax? Sleep around for the rest of your life?"

"If that's what I have to do."

"Kiss me." I said.

"What?"

"Kiss me, and then tell me you never want to see me again. And I'll forget about you."

Jax tilted his head to the side, considering what I had said. He walked over to me, eagerly cupping my face in his hands. I could feel his heartbeat quicken as he pressed his body against mine and the warmth of his breath just inches away. He pulled me in, kissing me urgently. There was something different about the way our lips moved together this time. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I pulled back, drained.

"I never want to see you again," he whispered.

I looked up into his baby blue eyes. "I don't believe you."

_"I'm lying."_

* * *

**A/N: PLEASE REVIEW after you read this. I'll update sooner if you do, thank you!**


	7. Chapter 7

"_**The most beautiful people I've known are those who have known trials, have known struggles, have known loss, and have found their way out of the depths."  
― Elisabeth Kübler-Ross**_

* * *

We laid together in the wake of destruction. The room was redecorated in articles of clothing and knocked over furniture. There was something beautiful about it. Passion is a feeling; you can't hold it in your hands or see it with your eyes. It's just _there_ or it simply isn't. If I had to describe what I thought it looked like, it would be the way the lamp was tipped over on the floor, the way my jeans were tossed into the corner, and his leather cut laying over the arm of the couch. One shoe was missing, and the other sitting next to an over-turned ashtray, cigarette butts scattered everywhere. It was a perfect mess. If you had asked me two months ago where I seen myself in the near future, this wasn't it. If you had asked me two months ago what I wanted out of life, this wasn't it, either. It's funny how fast things change. This is exactly where I want to be, and I want _him_.

My head was resting on his chest as he ran his fingers over my shoulder. I silently wished I could freeze time- hold onto this moment for as long as possible. My mind wandered to the blonde woman who was so eagerly throwing herself at Jax. I pictured what would be happening right now had I not kicked her out. She would be laying in the same position I was, clutching onto him. My heart sunk.

"That woman you were with tonight," I said, "who was she?"

He sighed, "I don't know."

"You don't know her?"

"She's a crow eater. That's what we call women who hang around and sleep with members of the club."

"And you sleep with a lot of them?"

"I have. Hundreds, maybe more. I don't know. I barely see their faces anymore."

I scrunched my face in confusion. "Am I a crow eater?"

"No darlin', you're something else." He said, pulling me closer.

"What am I?"

"I don't know," he sighed, "but when I'm with you, I forget about all the bull shit; all the women I've been with, the endless blood-spill, the constant worry that one day I'm going to have to bury a brother because of the lifestyle we live. It all disappears and the only thing I can think of is how the moonlight looks on your skin... and the way your body feels pressed against mine."

"What happened the other night," he added, "will happen again. I don't know when, or why but it will. I'd be selfish to ask you to stay here, to be a part of who I am. That was just the tip of the iceberg. It'll get worse. It's inevitable when you lead a certain life. If you were smart, you'd leave."

"Are you trying to scare me?"

"Yeah." He said.

"I'm not going anywhere." I replied, yawning. I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep.

* * *

The early morning sun crept through the window, interrupting my sleep. I reached my arm out and sat upright when I realized I was alone in the bed. The room had been cleaned up, returning to it's slightly disorganized state in which it was kept. The clock on the nightstand told me it was 9:00 a.m. I grabbed a red shirt and a pair of pants out of my bag.

Jax's words from last night were still fresh on my mind. He had feelings for me, I think. I couldn't be sure. I've never be in the situation where I was questioning how someone felt about me. I never gave a damn, to be honest.

The club house was unusually quiet, I noted, walking down the hallway. Gemma was in the kitchen, watching the news. She nodded at me when she noticed my presence.

"Morning,"

"Where is everyone?" I asked her, pouring a cup of coffee.

"There was another meeting with Alvarez today," she said, "Hopefully the last. I've got shit to do. I think we're all tired of being holed up in this joint."

"I've got to find a job and work on Unser's house." I shook my head. "It feels so vacant inside."

"Guess that means you're sticking around." She smirked.

_Of course I'm sticking around_, I thought. _I'm head over heels for your son._ Hell, I couldn't even imagine leaving. Jax was the first person I've thought about every morning since the funeral and the last person I've thought of before I went to sleep at night. It was sickening, almost, how much he invaded my mind.

"Do you worry about them when they're not here?" I asked, changing the subject. Gemma understood that I was referring to the Son's. She was the mother-figure for every one of them, aside from Clay. "What if they all don't come back? Or get hurt. Or-" She cut me off.

"You can't think like that... Not around here. You'll drive yourself crazy. I worry about them but they're tough. This is what they do.. Men handle business."

She stood up and set her hand on my shoulder. "Come on, let's get some fresh air."

I followed her lead. She walked outside and sat at a picnic table. Gemma pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her purse and offered me one. I lit it up, noticing the woman from last night across the lot from me. The blonde was talking to half-sack, who was working on a car. I momentarily questioned what he was still doing here. The prospects must have to protect the club house during a lockdown. My attention focused back on the woman as she leaned over the hood, giggling over something he said. I scowled.

"That's one of Luann's girls."

"Huh?" I asked, turning my attention back to Gemma.

"That girl you're staring at.. names Ima. She's a porn star.. hangs around here and spreads her pussy like it's the black plague."

"Who's Luann?"

"A friend of the club. Otto Delaney's old lady.. She runs a pornography studio called Cara Cara."

"Is Otto a part of the club? I asked her.

"Yeah, he's in the big house though.. He did a lot of shit for this club." She said.

I was tempted to ask her what kind of _shit_ he did. I brushed it off. I didn't need to know and would most likely wish I hadn't if I did. "So what's your beef with Ima?" She asked.

"I don't have any." I said.

"Bullshit, I know that look. What is it?"

"She was hooking up with Jax last night. I lost it.. pulled her off of him." I recalled.

"Good." Gemma said. I looked at her questioningly. "You have to let them know he ain't free dick."

"We're not together."

She took a drag of her cigarette. "It's all about knowing what you want and then taking it, sweetheart. And don't let anyone get in the way of it."

The door to the club house opened and Donna walked out. She sat down at the table and sighed. "If I don't find something to do, I'm going to lose my mind." She said.

"_Welcome to the club_," Gemma replied. I smiled at her play on words.

"This is the second day in a row I had to call off of work," Donna said. "I'll be lucky if I even have a job still."

"I'm sure if the owner didn't freak out over the riot, he won't mind that you can't come in." I said.

"I know, I know. Perks of your boss being in bed with the club, but still.."

"What do you mean _in bed with the club_?" I asked. She began speaking but Gemma cut her off.

"The Iron Horse burnt down a few years back.. Clay gave the guy money to rebuild in exchange for half of the profits."

"Smart." I said. Gemma nodded.

"I'll see you two later, I got paperwork coming out the ass in there." She said, putting her cigarette out and motioning towards the small building diagonal from us. The click of her heeled-boots on the concrete slowly faded as she walked away.

Donna's attention diverted behind me as I felt a hand touch my shoulder. I immediately shrugged it off, seeing the confusion in Donna's eyes, and turned around.

I was met by a very annoyed Ima, who was glaring at me.

"You have a lot of nerve coming over here." I said, firmly.

"Stay away from Jax." She demanded. "You have no business being with him."

"Excuse me?"

"You should be shining his motorcycle not obsessing over him." She said.

I stood up, moving closer to her. She stepped backwards. "I suggest you watch how you talk to me."

"Or what?" She replied, putting her hands on her hips and popping the gum in her mouth.

I grabbed the back of her head, tangling my fingers in her hair and bashed her face off of the table. Donna jumped, throwing her hand over her mouth, shocked. I seen blood trickle down the blonde's cheek. She cried out in pain. _Know what you want, and then take it, _Gemma's words ran through my mind. Ima steadied herself and half-jogged in the opposite direction.

"Where did that come from?" Donna said, surprised.

"I don't know." I lied, peering over to the office. Two brown eyes were peeking out of the blinds. I felt my hand sting. I forgot it was still healing from the glass. I winced, shaking it off and headed inside.

* * *

I felt something touch my forehead. It moved down my nose and onto my cheek. I opened my eyes in bewilderment. Jax was positioned on top of me planting small kisses on my face. I must have fallen asleep. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he kissed me on the lips, realizing I was awake.

"Hi." I said.

"Hi darlin'."

"You're in a good mood." I pointed out.

"I came home to this beautiful woman in my bed, how could I not be?" He said, moving off of me and propping himself up on his elbow.

"How'd everything go?" I turned on my side to face him.

"It's handled." He told me, "Alvarez recognized the ink from a low-ranking club called the Calaveras out in Lodi. They did dirty work for the Mayans back in the day."

I scrunched my face in confusion. "Why would they shoot up a bar in Charming?"

"Alvarez stripped their president of his patch a few weeks ago. Salazar wasn't controlling his club, a few of them got theirselves involved in some pretty bad shit that spilled over onto Mayan territory. Salazar was pissed and rounded a couple people up and tried to frame the Mayans for a shoot-out so we would retaliate. They were trailing us that night, they just didn't expect the rest of the Son's to show up."

"So where is Salazar now?" I asked him.

"He's been dealt with." He stated, matter-of-factly. I nodded, not pressing for any more details.

"So the club isn't on lock down anymore?"

"Na, Charming's safe again."

I frowned, thinking of what that would mean for us. I remembered how adamant he was about me getting out of this town just last night. Would he push me away again now that he didn't have to keep me here for protection?

"What's wrong," he asked, evaluating my expression.

I shook my head, "Nothing, it's just.. I liked being with you."

He cupped my face in his hands. "Darlin', don't worry about us. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

"You sure?" I asked.

He sighed, releasing my face from his grip. "There's this old saying.. Some people die at twenty-five and aren't buried until they're seventy-five." I furrowed my eyebrows, anticipating his explanation. "I never understood it before.. I do now. It's like I was dead inside, so numb to everything. And then I met you... Something changed, fast. I'm in, okay? _All or nothing_. No lies, no secrets, just me and you." I nodded.

"Come on, I'll ride you home." He picked me up off the bed and carried me bride-style down the hall way, setting me down in the bar room. The Son's were sitting around, drinking beer. Everyone else had left.

We headed out the door towards his bike. He stopped in his tracks, looking over at a little white car that a little blonde was getting into.

"What happened to her?" He asked.

"I don't know." I said, humor in my voice. He handed me his helmet and I jumped on back, wrapping my arms around him and letting the wind blow through my hair.

* * *

"Gemma's having a get together at her place tonight." He said as I was walking to the front steps at Unser's. "Everyone's gonna be there."

I turned around, focusing my attention on him. "Is that an invitation?"

"8 o'clock." He said, "don't keep me waiting." He smiled and pulled out of the driveway. I listened to the sound of his motorcycle drowning out in the distance before reaching for the door handle.

I quickly showered and wrapped a towel around my body. Stepping into the livingroom, I decided to look through the house to kill some time. In the far back of the closet was a small cardboard box. It had the word _Pictures_ scribbled sloppily on the front of it. I brought it to the center of the room, set it down on the floor and positioned myself next to it. It was filled to the top. I grabbed a handful of them and began inspecting them.

The first one was a family portrait of Wayne, Della and his children. I noticed how happy he looked and frowned. How could these people leave him by himself while he was dying and not even have the decency to show up to his funeral? I flipped it to the bottom of the stack. _Gemma_, I thought, seeing the petite brunette's young and fresh face. She was standing next to Unser, holding his hand. They couldn't be any older than fifteen. I removed it and set it to the side, deciding to give it her later tonight. The next one was a photo of my mother when she was pregnant. She was wearing a long sun dress, staring towards into space. She had her hands on her stomach, seemingly protecting it. I smiled and set the pictures down. I decided I would look through them some other time.

I got up and headed to the bathroom, throwing on a casual white v-neck and a pair of jeans. I let my hair dry into it's normal curls and deemed myself _'good enough'. _I grabbed my cellphone off of the charger and checked the time. _7:32 p.m_, my heart beat was speeding and I couldn't shake the nervous feeling inside of me. I had just spent days with these people; it was completely unjustified to be anxious all of a sudden. The sound of something hitting the window in the other room broke my thoughts.

I walked to where I had heard the impact and slowly pulled the blind down. I was significantly surprised to see the shadow of a man standing next to a tree in the front yard. I watched him for awhile. I couldn't make out his face from the lack of light. He started walking towards me. I gasped, stepping backwards before sprinting to lock the door.

* * *

**A/N**: **(((((PLEASE REVIEW if you liked the chapter, once again I'll update sooner if you guys want me to.)))))))** I wanted to say I truly appreciate everyone who takes the time to read this story. Also, to clear things up... This story is set to when Jax is younger, about 26ish. And Opie and Donna don't have kids yet. I'm really excited to post the next couple of chapters. I think you guys will really enjoy the suspense in them. ANYWAYS, If anyone here has a twitter, I'd suggest going and following Kurt Sutter. He's seriously hilarious. I was also super excited to tell you guys that he tweeted that Adam Levine was signed to the show as Opie's nomad brother. I have a feeling that it's a joke, but how awesome would that be?


	8. Chapter 8

_**My whole life I've been telling myself "don't be afraid" and it is only now that I'm realizing how stupid that is. Don't be afraid. Like saying "don't move out of the way when someone tries to punch you" or "don't flinch at the heat of a fire" or "don't blink", don't be human. I'm afraid and you're afraid and we're all always going to be afraid. Because that's the point. What I should be telling myself is "be afraid but do it anyway", live anyway. -Unknown.**_

* * *

My back was firmly pressed against the door as if the lock would fail and by some miracle my tiny frame would be enough to keep it shut. I exhaled; my breathing coming out ragged and heavy. I tried to listen, to hear his footsteps or any noise indicating his presence. All I could hear was the ticking of the clock on the wall adjacent from me. I sunk down to the floor.

I wagered with myself if I should be scared. I was, but was it justified? Had I only been frightened because of the events from the other night? For all I knew, this could just be some drunk who was wandering around aimlessly, or a young man who didn't particularly like my uncle. _Perhaps he arrested him_, I thought, _or maybe it was a friend of his, coming to say his goodbyes_. I stood up and walked towards the window, peering outside.

The yard was vacant and quiet. The man was seemingly gone. I cursed myself for reacting the way I had and managed to catch my breath. Lighting a cigarette, I built up the courage to head out to my car.

There was no one in sight. Had I imagined the stranger? I peered in to the windows, making sure no one was hiding in the back seat. I've watched enough horror movies in my lifetime to make me overly paranoid in situations like this. I let out a sigh of relief, realizing it was empty. Could I have post traumatic stress disorder? I'm not sure if it could cause hallucinations, and I didn't feel any different than I had before the shooting. I shook my head, getting in my vehicle and pulling out of the drive way. I adjusted my rear-view mirror, glancing at the house one last time. I almost hoped someone would jump out of the shadows just so I was certain that I wasn't losing my mind.

* * *

It didn't even dawn on me that I had absolutely no idea where I was going until I was already on my way. I've never been to Gemma and Clay's, I had only been formerly introduced to everyone days ago.

"..fuck." I muttered. I headed towards the club house, hoping someone would still be hanging around who could give me directions. I passed the Iron Horse and noticed Donna's car parked in front. Performing an illegal U-turn, I pulled up next to it.

It was amazing how quickly all the furniture was replaced. It looked exactly as it had before the riot. I made my way through the crowd to the bar. Donna was waiting on a customer.

"Can I get you something?" A voice asked. I turned my attention off of the brunette. A gray-haired man stood behind the bar smiling at me.

"Uh.. Yeah. Give me a Bud Light, draft. Thank you." I returned the smile.

He slid me a glass, "you waiting on someone?" He asked. "Not many pretty girls come to bars by themselves."

"I'm a friend of Donna's." I told him, motioning to her. She glanced towards me and walked over.

"Hey," she said, "what are you doing here? I figured you'd be at Gemma's by now."

"I was supposed to be, but I dont where the hell she lives. I forgot to ask." I said, sipping the head from my beer.

"Well I'm done with my shift in..," she looked down at her watch, "five minutes. We'll ride up together, it'll save me a trip to the gas station."

"Okay," I replied, thankful.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, "I almost forgot, Nichole, this is the owner," she pointed at the old man, "Jack Riley." I nodded. She turned to him.

"This is the girl who helped me clean up after the fight that broke out." She said. "She's actually looking for a job."

"Do you have any experience?" He asked me.

"Is four years enough?"

"It'll do.. I really appreciate what you did.. Not many people would stay behind after something like that...," he said, "drinks on the house, come in tomorrow at six. Donna can show you the ropes."

"Sure, it was nice meeting you." I said. My voice sounded monotone and indifferent. I wanted the job. I should be happy, but I just couldn't shake the thought of the stranger lurking in the darkness. I scanned the room, wondering if it was any of them. No one seemed suspicious or had even given me a second glance since I walked in. They were all going about their business; drinking and laughing with their friends. Perchance I had nothing to worry about.

"Come on, I'm done." Donna said, clocking out. I chugged my drink and followed her out.

She jumped in to the passenger seat of my car in a hurry. I joined her, turning the radio on in hopes to avoid a conversation. I believe she understood my motives. She stayed silent, bobbing to the music and only speaking to tell me directions. I was a prisoner of my own mind sometimes. When anything happens that I can't fully comprehend, I stress over every detail; think of every possibility and each outcome. It was one of my least favorite qualities I had. I could sit for hours in silence breaking a situation down piece by piece, taking in to perspective all of the could-haves, would-haves or maybe's.

We pulled up to a beautiful house which was surrounded by motorcycles and a few cars. I immediately dreaded accepting the invitation, wanting nothing but to be alone with my thoughts. Donna got out and began walking to the door; I followed behind her, crossing my arms across my chest. The entrance was open and loud dialogue and bellows of laughter poured outside. I sighed.

Everyone was standing around, beers in hand. I forced a small smile when some of the men looked my way. Donna had bee-lined to the living room and perched herself on her husband's lap. Jax sat next to him. His eyes fell on me and I managed a slight wave before setting out to find the kitchen, where Gemma would more than likely dwell.

"You're late," she said, pulling food from the oven. I leaned against the doorway.

"Funny story actually," I told her, "no one gave me directions." She smirked.

"I suppose that's a good enough excuse," she said. "Give me a hand with this shit. Lord knows none of the boys will offer." She motioned to the buffet she had prepared.

I helped her set the table in the dining room. Clay had stumbled over to us noticeably intoxicated and tried to pick at a tray of steamed vegetables. Gemma slapped his hand away and continued setting out silverware. I felt two familiar arms wrap around me from behind.

"Thanks for saying hi," he whispered sarcastically before kissing me on the cheek. I could feel his mother's eyes on me but refused to meet her gaze.

"I waved." I said as he released his grip. The men started piling in to the room, eager to devour their dinner. Jax grabbed my hand and pulled me to a chair next to him.

"I want to make a toast," Clay said, holding his drink in the air, "to Charming returning to the safe town we fight so hard to maintain, to my brothers, my family. And to my beautiful wife, Gemma who slaved all day for this. I love you." He said.

"I love you, too." She told him. He motioned to his lips, tapping on them. She walked to him and leaned over consenting the light kiss.

"I just got my new wheels in today," Juice began, "you know those motherfucker's sent me the wrong brand for the third time. I swear I'm giving them a piece of my mind first thing tomorrow."

"Do you think you can spare it?" Bobby said, smirking. Some of the boys laughed at his comment.

"You sure you're putting the order in right, Juicy boy.. I had no problem when I got mine." Chibs said.

"If he was any dumber, he'd have to be watered twice a week." Tig added.

"You guys are real funny." Juice said, pretending to be annoyed. "I'd watch my back if I was you."

"What are you gonna do, drop us like third period math?" Bobby said.

He shook his head, "I swear, I put the order in right. It's like trying to speak Chinese to a Mexican."

"That's how we feel when we talk to you," Tig said. Juice elbowed the raven-hairred man who was sitting next to him. Tig put him in a quick headlock, knocking over a beer bottle.

"Hey!" Gemma yelled, "Save the rough-housing for the club house. If that doesn't get cleaned up right now, someone's getting a size nine heel shoved up their ass."

"The queen has spoken," Jax laughed. Both men were already out of their seats scrubbing the floor with their dinner rags.

"I've had worse things shoved up there." Tig called out.

"What kind of awful things did your mother do to you when you were young, Trager?" Clay asked, appalled. He shrugged.

"Got to try everything once.."

I looked at Gemma. She was watching the men converse, admiring them. This was her family, blood-related or not. I recognized the look on her face. It was the same look my mother would give me years ago. I miss that look.

"You okay, darlin'?" Jax nudged me, "you haven't said much tonight."

"Yeah, I'm fine." I smiled.

"Alright," he said, grabbing my hand and kissing it. I blushed.

Gemma stood up, retrieving a bottle of champagne from a china cabinet.

"What's the special occasion?" Clay asked her. She sliced the top off with a knife, a party trick I've only ever seen in movies.

"Let's just say we're celebrating the future." She smiled at me, pouring a glass and handing it to me. I could feel everyone's eyes on me as I accepted it. Jax rested his hand on my thigh.

"I'll drink to that." He said bringing his beer to his lips. Everyone followed in sync.

"How about we move this party to the club house. I'm in serious need of some barely legal pussy." Bobby said.

"Didn't you hit that red head last night?" Juice asked.

"So?" He replied.

"Hope you wrapped that shit. That's a high traffic zone." Opie laughed.

"Bobby's got more kids than Juice has brain cells." Jax chimed in.

"No. I'm safe," Bobby said, "I pull out."

"Yeah, well that doesn't always work. What are you going to do when a sixteen year old run-a-way shows up on your front steps looking for her daddy?"

"Bobby Munson? Nope, never heard of him." Bobby replied.

"That's horrible," I said, shaking my head.

"Boys will be boys." Gemma shrugged.

The table broke off into groups of separate conversations. Alcohol-fueled debates and playful banter filled the room. I excused myself from my seat, wanting nothing but fresh air and made my way out of the house. I lit a cigarette and sat down on the steps. It was comfortable outside; a slight breeze took the edge off of the normal California weather. I took a drag of my smoke, noticing something on my windshield. I squinted, trying to will my eye sight to see beyond the norm.

I stood up and started walking towards it. My pace started slow, and then sped up as I got closer. "_What the hell_.." I muttered, picking up a freshly cut rose that was placed between my wipers.

Who put it there, and why? I looked around, however it was too dark outside to see much of anything. Jax hadn't left my side since I got here so there's no way it would've been him. My mind flashed to the image of the man from earlier. I dropped the flower to the ground and began backing away from it. I hit into a blunt object; a body. I screamed.

"What's wrong?" A frantic Jax asked. "What are you doing out here?"

"Uh.." I stammered, "nothing's wrong. You just scared me, that's all." I lied. "I was just getting some fresh air."

"You're not usually so jumpy." He noted.

"I seen a rat." He cocked his eye brow, unconvinced but didn't press the issue.

"Everyone's heading out."

"Okay." I said.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" Jax asked. I nodded. He leaned down and kissed me on the lips before walking towards his bike. I watched him, contemplating whether to tell him about the current events.

I remembered his concern for me. He had urged me things would get worse and warned me to leave. If I told him, how would he react? He would probably convince himself that whoever was toying with me was trying to get to him or the club and force me to leave Charming. I couldn't leave him. This is where I'm supposed to be. I've never felt like I belonged anywhere until I came here. I imagined getting into my car and never seeing his bright blue eyes smiling at me again and felt a pang in my heart. _I'll deal with it myself._

"Hey!" I called. He turned to acknowledge me. I ran over to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and crushed my lips onto his. I could feel him fight a smile as he pulled me closer. "Stay with me tonight?" He whispered, breaking away from me.

"Aren't you sick of me yet?" I joked.

"Never."

"I'll meet up with you in a little. I'm going to say goodnight to your mother and pick up some things from Unser's." I told him.

"Alright, darlin'." He started his motorcycle and took off.

I walked back in to the house. Everyone was saying their goodbye's. Gemma was hugging Donna.

"Can I talk to you?" I asked her. She released the brunette from her clutch.

"What's the matter?"

She seen the look of unwillingness in my eyes to speak in front of the others and dragged me to the kitchen. "What is it?" She repeated herself.

"I, uh.. I hope this doesn't sound crazy.." I said, "I want to buy a gun. I just don't know of any places around here."

"What do you need a gun for?" She questioned, putting her hands on her hips.

"Maybe I'm being paranoid. I just feel like I'd be more comfortable if I had one."

"Why do I get the feeling that you're hiding something?" _She's smart_, I thought. I didn't reply.

She walked over to a closet, grabbing a box from the top shelf. She pulled out a pistol and threw it to me. I almost didn't catch it, being unprepared and all.

"I don't know what you need it for, but if you're going to have a gun at least be careful about it."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The serial number's been filed off. Cops can't track it." She said. "I'm guessing my son doesn't know about this."

"No." I said. "He doesn't. I don't want to worry him.. He'll overreact if I told him I didn't feel safe.. ya know? Think it's the club's fault or his or something.. It isn't" I assured her. "I guess I just want to be able to defend myself if _anything_ were to happen." She grabbed a piece of paper from the counter and scribbled something on it.

"Here," she handed it to me.

"What's this?"

"My number.. Incase you get in to trouble." She said. "You know, you remind me a lot of myself when I was young. I haven't decided if that's a good or bad thing yet."

"Goodnight, Gemma. And _thank you_."

I started my engine and gently removed the silver weapon from my purse, inspecting it. I've never shot a gun before or put any thought in to having to. I wasn't certain how big of a threat I was up against, if I was even up against anything at all. The man could be harmless. I still didn't know how serious this could turn out to be nor was I certain if I could actually take a life if I had to. My mother had always told me that preparation was key. Surely she hadn't meant it in this situation; not too many people think they'll have to deal with something like this, but I suppose it still made sense.

* * *

Pulling in to Unser's driveway, two police cruisers were parked in front; I recognized one that belonged to Charlie, my late uncle's close friend. The sound of my car door slamming startled the men.

"What are you doing here?" I questioned, panic in my voice.

"What have you been?" He said. I ignored him.

"_What are you doing here_?"

"I came here to check on you. You weren't answering your phone." I shot him an apologetic look. "Officer, I've got it from here, consider it handled." The other man nodded and walked to his vehicle. Charlie watched him depart before looking back at me.

"Are you aware that the front door was kicked in?" I shook my head, signaling my ignorance. "I found this on the coffee table." He pulled out a yellow envelope with the word beautiful jotted on the front of it.

"What is it?"

"Pictures of you. From the funeral, walking around town, on the back of Jackson Teller's bike," He reached in to his pocket, removing a folded up picture he must have snatched from the pile, "at that bar that was burned down the other night.." He showed me a photograph of myself standing at that entrance of the building that had supposedly had a tragic gas leak.

"Oh my god." I said, throwing my hand over my face.

"Do you understand what this means?"

"Someone's following me."

"No, someone's stalking you. And this picture, could cause officials to look more in to the fire and place you as a suspect."

"What really happened that night?" He demanded.

"I don't know."

"You were there, Nichole!" He flipped it over, showing me the time stamp on the back of the Polaroid. I was at a loss for words. "Do you know the position this puts me in?" I shook my head and swallowed loudly.

"You could get charged for arson, mass murder... Do you understand how long you'd go away for? That's a life sentence, if not death row. It's easier to brush the fire under the rug when there's no evidence of foul play or any witness's. This picture places you there."

"...I didn't. I was just, um," I stammered.

"Jesus Christ," he exclaimed,"your uncle is probably turning in his grave."

"Are you going to turn me in?" I managed to ask. He looked at me angrily before softening his stare.

"No, of course not." He sighed. "But I can't say the same for whoever took these pictures."

"Does the other officer know... about _them_." I said.

"I didn't show him, I took it out as soon as I realized where it was taken," Charlie stated. "I know how things work around here. How the Son's handle shit.. I know you've been spending time with them.."

"I didn't kill anyone."

"That's something you'd have to convince a judge and a jury if this gets out... I know you wouldn't, but it sure looks that way." He said, handing me the evidence. "Get rid of this. And get out of here, someone's after you. Don't let him catch you alone. This is out of my hands, sweetheart. All I can do is keep tabs on you. If I report a stalking and other officers get involved, more shit could leak that could put you behind bars. Its bad enough that I had the rookie here with me. Luckily, he's training under me and doesn't ask too many questions. You have to tell the club."

* * *

**A/N: (_PLEASE REVIEW_) if you liked the chapter. I meant to post this sooner, however work has gotten to be a bit much this past week. I hope you enjoyed it, and will continue reading. Sorry that there wasn't too much of Jax in this chapter.**


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